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Bolt :: Wank Wednesday

Welcome to week eight of Wank Wednesday, your weekly festival of smut.

With so many great writers of smut and erotica on Twitter and the web I thought it would be a nice idea to get a smutty blog carnival going. For writers or would be writers a weekly prompt will get you writing and as a reader well you’ll be able to get your fix of sexy stories all in one go.
To join in all you need to do is write a story with the weekly prompt as a title. This week’s prompt is #Bolt. Then:

  • Blog it – post it on your blog then come back here and add it to the link list.
  • Tweet it – write it on twitter using the prompt hashtag and the #wankwednesday hashtag
  • Add it – if you don’t want to blog or tweet it then please do add it as comment to my post
  • WE it – if you are a member at Word Ejaculation you can submit with them too, just remember to link back to me here and to add your entry to the link list.

Please link back to this page in your post and please also do take the time to read and comment on the other contributors, we’ll all keep on writing but it is so much nicer to do so with feedback.

Thank you for writing and reading.

This weeks prompt

::

Bolt

::

Annette thrust her hands into the dusty suitcase and let the tears flow.  Every garment she touched held a memory, not just of the occasion they had been worn on but of the reason and effort of their creation, these were just a few most precious from a lifetime of stitching seams for herself and for others.

As her fingers closed around each fabric she fell backwards through life to the darkness of the fabric shop and remembered each bolt of fabric in the catalogue of her memory.

She had started working in the shop at 14, silently sweeping, fetching and carrying until she could be trusted with dispensing buttons and measuring out trims, bias tapes and ribbons.

It took several years before she was trusted with the heavy metal shears.  The sound of them slicing through fabric was already the soundtrack to her days and when she was finally allowed to hold them she felt the weight of them in her hands and the magic that they conveyed when the split cleanly through the fabrics’ weave.

The fabric shop was a still, dark place.  The muted light protected the fabrics but did little to help tell the navy from dark green or black, Annette, like the other staff used their touch to tell the fabrics apart.

Her whole life played out through cotton, lace and velvet.

Here the sprigged floral cotton lawn that became a tea dress for the first time she walked out with him.  She ran her fingers along the pin tucks catching them under her nail, feeling the fullness of the many ruffles; everything so very feminine and correct, coyly appealing and bouncing as she supposed she must have been as a young woman.

She knew by heart the contents of this suitcase, she need not go further, so familiar was this routine; the weeping over a wasted life.

The one garment that should be there was never there, though she remembered it as clearly as the rest.  The heavy oyster silk, detailed with embroidery and seed pearls, hours and weeks of work.  The veil a cascading foam of lace flecked with more pearls, angels tears is how she thought of them now.  For surely the angels had seen and known and wept for her that day.

She’d known nothing of sex, Annette had walked up the aisle a virgin, naïve and trusting.  Her courtship had been traditional, the safe walkings out and tea dances studded with embraces and kisses in the storeroom of the fabric shop.  Powerful assertions from him that she was his, words and caresses that took her will away, melted it and poured it back down her throat to the waiting snake in her stomach.  Heating it, uncoiling it through her, leaving her almost witless with need when his searching fingers always but always stopped at the top of her stockings.

She was his good girl.  He told her so and she nodded, complicit in feelings and desire she didn’t understand.

Yet with the ascent to marriage, so saw her fall.  She was his now, at first by choice but tied by law and the sweetness of courtship was gone, she was caught and his to use.  No more whispers and gentle kisses, she was never warmed again he didn’t care to no matter how many times he mounted her, his only notice was to tell her that she was frigid, a freak and that any right minded man would search elsewhere.  At first she hoped he did and then gave up hope because even if he did it didn’t stop the regular assaults on her body, with fists, feet and cock.

She was his after-all, willingly blindly by the law, his.

And so this was life, the snake that had once heated and suggested her body’s delights went cold and turned to stone, Annette felt the weight of it in her daily through the many long years of her marriage.

There was no fight or flight, only this existence, she was as helpless as a dust mote caught in the slanting light of the high windows of the fabric shop.

And now in his death she was free, but all that was left of her life was this suitcase of fabric, cut and shaped from the bolts that held the secret of her tears.

::

Thanks for reading,

Ruby x

If you enjoyed my writing you can find more of my erotic fiction stories on Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com, don't be shy leave a review!

7 Responses to Bolt :: Wank Wednesday

  1. Denise April 12, 2011 at 3:51 pm #

    This is an entry from Denise, who you can follow as @denstar65 on twitter.

    BOLT

    I saw you in the mirror manouvearing your way past the drunken women in the toilet pushing back your long black hair way from your face as you came towards me, I began to look back at my hands in the water when you saw me in the mirror and smiled. You held my gaze and I was unable to look away as I was captured by your eyes. I blinked and you were by my side saying hello. I swallowed and mumbled hello back looking down at my hands which were dripping on the floor and watched as you took one hand and placed it between your legs. I could feel the dampness there that matched my own, as I tried to pull my hand back you held tight and I could feel your pulse beat in your crotch as my heartbeat almost drowned out all the noise around us. I looked nervously around to make sure no one saw us. At that moment a women came out of the toilet in front of us and you yanked me through the door. I almost fell over the toilet as you turned me around and pulled the bolt between us and the crowd. I could see my heart beating through my chest as you pulled me towards you and put my hand in your jeans that you had somehow opened as you bolted the door, “fuck me” you said.

    I felt faint and couldn’t hear a thing except for the sound of my heartbeat and was frozen to the spot unable to go, unable to stay. You opened my shirt and took my nipple between your nails and squeezed until I felt the tears coming to my eyes. “Fuck me! I wont tell you again” you whispered in my ear. Still I couldn’t move and stayed exactly where I was staring into your dark brown eyes that seemed to go on forever. The next moment you were tying a leather thong around my wrists and I just couldnt figure out exactly where it had came from. As I looked at my hands you said that you never left home without it.

    As you raised my tied hands above us it felt as though my head was about to explode with the sound of my heart beating. You pulled open my shirt and the buttons fell on the floor and seemed to echo through the noise despite the fact that the toilet was packed. As you placed your mouth around my nipple I gasped as the tingle went from my nipple to my clit and I felt like I had been stung. Your mouth was cold and I begged for your kiss me where I needed it. Your tongue ran from my nipple all the way to my belly button and my legs shook. Then you stopped….. “Please… dont leave me like this” I pleaded with my eyes closed trying not to drown. “I told you I wouldn’t tell you again” you said and I heard the bolt being drawn back as you walked out of door leaving me tied and open and wet.

    Reply
    • Ruby April 12, 2011 at 7:29 pm #

      Wow, deliciously hot and sexy.
      Thank you Denise.

      Reply
  2. Cherry Sweets April 13, 2011 at 9:41 pm #

    Oh, what a sad, sad story. But beautifully written.

    Reply
  3. Wynn Scarlett Frost April 13, 2011 at 9:54 pm #

    WOW. Just wow.

    xoxo,
    Scarlett

    Reply
  4. Paula April 14, 2011 at 1:24 pm #

    Beautiful. :)

    Reply
  5. Den April 15, 2011 at 6:00 pm #

    Thanks everyone first attempt at writing so thanks for your very kind comments.
    Denise

    Reply
  6. Maureen April 21, 2011 at 2:48 am #

    I’m sad. Lost in my thoughts and memories. Thanks and beautifully written.

    Reply

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